


Indulgences

by RavenXavier



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (inherent to elias bouchard), Developing Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Manipulation, Pre-Canon, bonding over occult books and leitners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22000228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenXavier/pseuds/RavenXavier
Summary: "Jon did not fit here, Elias noted without sentiment. Everything in the flat was elegant, pristine, sharp; Jon was none of that – or rather he could have been, but the potential was buried under a fluttery mess of emotions and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed him on a regular basis."A few months after hiring Jonathan Sims, Elias takes the liberty to invite him to his flat.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 17
Kudos: 264
Collections: End-of-Year Exchange 2019





	Indulgences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhyNotFly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyNotFly/gifts).



> Dedicated to Fly, I hope you like it!!! A small offering for one of the best jonelias AUs there is, aka Elias falls in love so deeply with Jon that he eventually tries his best to keep him from becoming the Archivist and get taken by the Eye.
> 
> Incidentally, if anyone's interested, there is a perfect song for that AU, and it's "Carve a Smile", from Shayfer James. 
> 
> Thanks so much to Anonymous Beta Reader for having worked so fast on this because I was so late <3
> 
> Happy New Year to everyone!

Jon was still standing stiffly in the middle of the living room when Elias came back from the kitchen. He did not fit here, Elias noted without sentiment. Everything in the flat was elegant, pristine, sharp; Jon was none of that – or rather he could have been, but the potential was buried under a fluttery mess of emotions and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed him on a regular basis. Elias gave him a few years: Jon would either drown entirely or – or he would be claimed and rise to be something incredibly beautiful; incredibly _powerful._ He could feel the Eye already turned towards him, eager and hungry, and while he did not appreciate much to feel the influence of his patron so strongly, Elias had found out lately he couldn't quite look away either. 

He cleared his throat lightly. Jon startled, a flush creeping at the back of his neck.

"Scotch?" Elias asked, offering him one of the glasses he was holding. 

He could have asked Jon what he wanted, just as he could have told him to make himself at ease before leaving him alone here. But it was much more interesting to say nothing and observe what Jon would do. Jon hesitated, glancing at Elias through his eyelashes before grabbing the glass. Elias knew he’d only drank scotch once, at a fancy university party. 

He did not like it. 

"Thank you," he said, his accent too crisp, and awkwardly sipped at it, trying to hide his distaste. 

Elias smiled. "How do you find the flat?" 

"Modern," Jon answered, immediately. "It, er. It suits you." 

There was an irony in there, somewhere. "I'm glad to know that. But I doubt you've come here merely to appreciate the art on the walls. Come on, I'll show you the library."

"I still think it's dangerous," Jon said boldly as Elias led them into the corridor. Elias glanced at him, lips quirked in an amused smile. Jon scowled. "You said it was a Leitner," he insisted. 

"Well protected," Elias told him mildly. They'd already talked about it. "I followed all the protocols implemented at the institute."

"It would be safer _at_ the Institute."

"Would you believe me if I say it is... quite attached to staying here?" 

"I –" Jon tapped nervously on his glass. "Yes," he said tightly. "But that's even more concerning, if that's the case. How can you be sure it isn't –" 

"Influencing me?" Elias finished when Jon didn't. "Controlling me?"

The image of Jon's childhood bully flashed through his mind, as well as the irresistible pull of Mr Spider's web. "I didn't, I didn't mean to imply –" Jon muttered awkwardly. 

"Don't apologize, it's a very sensible question. But I can assure you I am always excessively careful about any external influences on my actions." 

He opened the door of the library and waved at Jon to come in; when Jon moved past him, Elias carefully let his hand linger near his hip. Jon's flush deepened, but he didn't say anything. After all, this might have been an accident – Elias always liked to leave the possibility of doubt. He followed Jon in and let him take in the room. 

It was perhaps Elias' favourite room; he’d always felt a sharp connection to books, and after two hundred years his collection was quite extensive. Of course, most of it he had filled the Institute's official library with. In here he only kept the most precious of his findings, or the most fascinating. He lingered in Jon's mind as Jon forgot entirely about Elias, or his drink, or his previous nervousness at the fact he was at his new boss' flat. In a moment, he was utterly taken by all the books, and his eagerness and abrupt hunger made Elias lick his lips with something that might have been anticipation. 

He did not receive many people here. In fact, he thought, as Jon's hand unconsciously twitched, itching to touch without quite daring to, he didn't think he had received anyone else here over the past fifty years apart from Peter.

Peter had not been much interested in the books.

"Do you see anything interesting?" he asked Jon eventually. 

Jon snorted. "Is that a trick question?" he asked back. "All of this is – impressive."

"Thank you," Elias said, with just enough warmth that Jon ducked his head ever so slightly. "There might be a few here I'd be happy to let you borrow, if you wish. They're too old to be left at the Institute, but they might be relevant to your research."

"Oh," Jon said softly. "I, er. That would – be amazing. Thank you." 

"I need to make sure my researchers are provided with anything they need to have good results,” Elias added, merely to watch Jon’s mind struggle to catch up between _you are special_ and _he’s only dedicated to his Institute and what we do here._ He put his glass down on the table next to him and asked slowly, as if weighing his words, “Are you sure you still want to see the Leitner?"

"... Yes," Jon answered after a beat, his heart jumping in his chest, this time for an entirely different reason.

He didn't want to, not really, Elias knew; Jon's fear spiked when Elias moved to the end of the room to retrieve a large black box carefully locked down. He mirrored Elias’ earlier gesture and let go of his glass as well, after draining it too fast to calm his nerves. He didn't want to see, but he would anyway – because he wanted to understand. Because he _needed to know_ , despite being aware, rationally, of how dangerous this was. His terror sent a delicious thrill down Elias' spine. The painted eyes that loomed over the books burned. 

The Leitner, which had never been a Leitner at all, was a battered journal that held the initials _J.M._ Elias took it carefully out, brushing a nostalgic thumb over it. "There it is," he said quietly. "I wouldn't open it if I were you, of course, even if you might feel.. compelled to."

Jon hummed, eyes entirely focused on it. "What – What is it?" he asked, his voice lower. 

"I strongly believe it used to be the personal diary of Jonah Magnus."

Jon's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"

"Never went further than a page or two," Elias told him. "But the writing is consistent with the letters that were left at the Institute, as well as his other writings. The dates matched."

"But I thought Leitner –"

"Well, we've never quite understood what he did to those books." 

"... Right. Right –" Jon's hand rose up. "Can I – ?"

His fingers were already on the journal's spine. Elias felt a pleasant shiver down the back of his neck. 

"You're aware of how dangerous it is," he said, touching Jon’s wrist lightly. "I don't think I can in all good conscience let you do something that might endanger you, Jonathan."

"But –" 

Elias pulled the journal back against him. He, too, felt it. The itch. The curiosity to open the journal, to see if what he'd written, so many years ago, when he was still young and quite foolish, was still what the journal would present now if read. If it had morphed enough that there might be something new to discover in its pages today. But practice had made him quite good at ignoring the urge, and he quickly and efficiently sealed the journal back in his box. 

"What's the point of having it here, if not to study it?" Jon asked, almost petulantly, watching him intently. 

"Keep the general public safer, for one thing," Elias pointed out. He let go of the box and turned back to Jon, examining him keenly. "How do you feel Jon?"

" _Fine_ ," Jon said. "If a little – _bereft_."

"Yes, I expect you would. Do you realize the hold it has on you, despite not even opening it?"

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it back soundlessly, colour draining from his face. Elias let him sink back into his memory of Mr Spider, the horrific powerlessness that still woke him up some nights when he worked too long on Leitner and his books. He carefully reached out and squeezed his arm. 

"It's quite alright. You know how those books are."

"Yes," Jon breathed quietly. His hands were shaking, just a bit. "Yes, I'm – god, Elias, I'm sorry –"

"It takes a lot to resist," Elias reassured him. "You're still quite young, but I don't doubt one day you'll be able to recognize their power and sufficiently fight against it."

"Is it even possible?" Jon asked.

"Everything is, provided you're willing to work towards it long and hard enough." He squeezed Jon's arm again then let him go, savouring the way Jon's heart skipped an unhappy beat. "I _do_ have much more boring and safe volumes here. Unless you'd rather sit down? You're still a little pale. I could also call for a taxi –"

"No," Jon said, fast. "No, I'm – I'm fine."

Elias smiled, pleased. "Wonderful."

Perhaps it was a little bit much, to guide him back to the other books with a hand settled lightly on his hip, but Jon didn't protest, despite his racing pulse. Elias watched him as he took his time studying them, resisting the natural urge to suggest to him a few that he knew to be quite exceptional. Some of them were so old that the titles were barely readable anymore, but Jon lingered on them, silent and attentive, his mind caught between all the knowledge held in the room and the warmth of Elias, so near him. 

Eventually he picked, to Elias’ happy surprise, a small volume from one of Elias’ favourite occultists, Trithemius. 

“A little outdated,” he couldn’t help but quietly point out. “But a remarkable man when it comes to classification of the many unexplained phenomena around him.”

“I only knew his work on history,” Jon admitted. “I didn’t know he’d worked so much on the occult.”

“I believe he was all the more fascinated by it that it wasn’t something as easily known as the diverse exploits of kings. Did you know he’d had to hide in his childhood to learn to read at all? One can only assume, being deprived of knowledge so young, that he took it as some sort of challenge to make the unknowable… clearer, later in life.”

“A worthy goal,” Jon murmured pensively, turning the pages of the book with the utmost care. 

He was reading, Elias realized with a note of fondness, following along through Jon’s eyes. Reading bouts of Latin sentences with ease, hints of frustration making him frown lightly when he came up with a word he didn’t know. Elias had to restrain himself not to provide him with the translations he desired. Instead he listened to Jon’s internal questions – there were many – and answered them in his own mind.

“Take it home,” he said at last, when he found himself dissatisfied by this silent one-way conversation. “I’d be happy to discuss it with you whenever you take the time to read it.” 

“Mmh,” Jon muttered and then, he blinked. “Sorry, I’m – I’m being rude.”

“I did offer you the possibility to look at them all.”

"There's just – so much to learn," he breathed out, fingers running along the printed lines.

"The work of a lifetime, one might say."

"And even then –" 

Elias huffed, amused. "Even then," he agreed slowly. 

Jon looked up from the book at last; Elias had moved closer as they studied it together, and their shoulders brushed against each other, the space between them reduced to almost nothing. Jon only seemed to realize it just then and the flush spread quickly back across his face. His eyes fluttered, falling on Elias' lips for the briefest of moments before hastily moving away. Elias stayed very still. As ever, he itched to know what Jonathan Sims would do. 

It was not so surprising when Jon surged forward on his toes and awkwardly pressed his lips against his. After months of a carefully orchestrated dance, Elias knew Jon had been bound to break sooner rather than later. Still he inhaled sharply, taken aback not by the kiss – which was stiff and clumsy, slightly too dry, but by his own reaction. Warmth spread all through his chest down to his stomach, and his heartbeat accelerated quite violently. 

Jon took a step back after a few seconds as Elias stood frozen, looking horrified and embarrassed. 

"Sorry," he stammered. "Sorry, I thought – I, that – that was clearly very – presumptuous and – god, I'm an idiot, I misinterpreted –"

There were, Elias calculated quickly, two courses of action. Either he let Jon simmer in the shame, played the calmly understanding boss that would agree to never speak of this again, or he did what he'd been doing ever since Jonathan Sims had walked in for his first interview, enticing the way new recruits so rarely were: he pushed it just a little bit further, to see where this could go. 

Jon's excuses died in his throat the moment Elias cupped his cheek. Elias leaned in, his other hand stroking Jon's hip almost gently. 

"Close the book, Jon," he breathed against his mouth. 

Jon fumbled with it, pushing it back blindly onto the shelf. Elias smiled, slow and pleased, and without another word, kissed him again. Jon's body immediately relaxed against him, his fingers clutching at Elias' shirt eagerly; the neediness was charming. Though it was probably not the smartest of ideas, he let himself sink into Jon's mind, bathing in Jon's abrupt joy, and felt both their hearts flutter as Elias' hand moved upwards to grasp at Jon's hair. They sighed in concert. 

It was easy to lose track of time after this; Elias had planned to let Jon take back the lead, once he'd made his own interest clear, but instead he found himself gripping Jon's waist tighter, leading him to lean against the bookshelf, and couldn't stop chasing after every noise Jon made, each new one lovelier than the precedent. When Jon breathed out his name, half a moan half a plea, Elias felt a shiver run down his spine and bent down, pressing a light kiss to Jon's racing pulse. 

"Not quite what I'd expected," he whispered against his skin, and Jon huffed a laugh. 

"You offered me scotch," he said, like it was any kind of argument. 

Elias kissed him again. "That's what polite hosts do."

"You –" Jon sighed again, as Elias let his lips trail over his jaw. "Books. You show me... Books."

"How easily you are seduced," Elias retorted fondly. Jon scowled, and Elias kissed his flushed cheek. "Don't be insulted; I supposed I've been just as weak."

"Mmh," Jon turned his head, seeking another kiss; Elias indulged him for a while, carding his fingers through his hair. 

It was uncharacteristically hard to form some sort of plan for what to do next, once he gathered the strength to move away from him again; especially with Jon staring at him with such hazy contentment, looking like quite the picture of debauchery. Sex, he knew, was out of the question. If Jon sought anything from him, it wasn't that, which meant Elias had to figure out something else. A challenge, he thought, smoothing over Jon’s shirt. It’d been a long time since he’d had one of those. 

"What are you thinking about?" Jon asked at last, his voice significantly softer.

"I don't quite know what to do with you," Elias answered and then licked his lips, surprised by his own honesty.

"Oh."

Jon's shoulders tense up again, a flicker of insecurity crossing his face. Elias brushed his fingers over his frown gently. "I am not a very impulsive man, Jon," he told him, "I hope you understand I don't generally have that kind of relationship with my employees." 

"I... right." Jon closed his eyes briefly, then straightened up, hands curling at his side. "Right, obviously, I understand –"

He understood nothing, of course, but it wasn’t as if Elias was going to enlighten him. He kissed Jon again, too soft, and Jon hesitated. 

“What does that mean?” he asked.

What it meant, Elias didn’t answer, was that Jonathan Sims was not important in the great scheme of things. He had a beautiful mind, and more beautiful eyes, yes, and one day he would doubtlessly be taken away by Elias’ patron, as some Institute employees were prone to be. Right now, however, he was a distraction. Elias had rituals to witness and study until he could shape a new one himself, and he had an Archivist that did not make it easy to watch her. He had plans, so many plans, and the inkling of a groundbreaking theory to explore. There was no time for a new challenge like Jonathan Sims. Certainly no time for something as ridiculously mundane as a work affair. 

Then again, Jon’s deep, dark eyes were truly hard to ignore, and Elias’ plans had been put into place for the last two hundred years. A few months of – _fooling around_ wouldn’t truly hurt them, especially if he was careful. Jon didn’t _have_ to fit in perfectly; he could be… an indulgence. Even men like Elias ought to have those. 

"Let me make you dinner," he said. 

Jon’s breath caught in his chest. It was endearing to watch the awkward, hopeful smile that blossomed on his lips; to witness the tentative hope that rose through the usual chaos of his thoughts. What a gorgeous, emotional thing he was.

Elias didn’t stop to question himself further, did not fret over the heavy thump in his chest. He did not even wait for Jon to agree; he was obviously going to. Instead, he indulged himself, quite satisfied with his decision, and cupped the back of Jon’s neck to pull him into another kiss.


End file.
